The Korean Mind. Boye Lafayette De Mente
propensity for Korean men to engage in chontu (chohn-tuu), or “fights,” especially public brawls, became such a disruption that one of the early kings of the Choson dynasty issued an edict requiring adult men to wear heavy ceramic hats in place of the lightweight horsehair hats that were traditional at that time. (Chontu is a Chinese term. The Korean equivalent, also commonly used, is ssa-um [ssah-uum].)
The edict went on to say that any man who became embroiled in a fight and lost his chungsan mo (chuung-sahn moh), or “pot hat,” would be punished severely. It is said that this decree was successful enough that it significantly diminished the amount of public violence in Korea. (What has not been mentioned, however, is how acrobatically skilled many Korean men became in balancing their heavy hats while still defending their honor.) The story goes that the “pot edict” was soon repealed because it interfered too much with the normal routine of men.
Korean men still do not go out looking for chontu, and by other social standards they are exceptionally well behaved even when drinking, but when they are called on to fight in a socially and politically approved situation they are fierce fighters who are inclined to give no quarter. During the Korean War men as well as women, on both sides of the conflict, routinely performed incredible feats that required extraordinary bravery.
In the late 1960s and early 1970s close to 250,000 Korean soldiers were sent to fight in the Vietnam War (under a financial arrangement with the United States), where they again proved their fighting spirit and skills and were especially feared by the Viet Cong. Since the 1970s most of the fighting spirit of Koreans has gone into transforming the country into an economic powerhouse—a challenge they met with the kind of ferocity once directed toward enemies on the battlefield.
Chorhakcha 촐학차 Chorr-hahk-chah
The Perennial Philosophers
Early Korea, like China, had its great chorhakcha (chorr-hahk-chah), or “philosophers,” who were generally the most esteemed men in the country. As also in China, Korea’s philosophers typically expressed their beliefs in poetry as well as prose, further ensuring that their names and beliefs would become known to the masses. (Many chorhakcha were as famous for the artistic quality of their calligraphy as for their philosophical concepts. The ability to write calligraphy in a highly refined style was, in fact, a yardstick for measuring the cultural achievement of all men in Korea’s gentry class and was regarded as the mark of a gentleman.)
Korea’s most outstanding philosophers included Ik Chae Yi (1287-1367), Kun Kwon (1352-1409), Hwang Yi (1501-1570), I Yi (1536-1584), and Hae Wol Choe (1829-1898).
Ik Chae Yi’s main theme was that all education should focus on realism, that metaphysical subjects, which abounded in his time, were just empty talk. Kun Kwon emphasized shilli (sheel-lee), or “realistic reasoning,” and shilshim (sheel sheem), or “realistic mind,” in his teachings. Hwang Yi (known as Toegye) was also a proponent of practical learning, which was counter to the Confucian-oriented system of education that had prevailed in the country for the previous thousand years.
I Yi (known as Yulgok) taught that reverence for sincerity in attitudes and behavior would prevent the victory of evil over good—that only the sincere man could know the “realism of heaven.” I Yi believed that government should be conducted on the basis of national consensus and that a loyal opposition was essential to keep those in power honest. He said that if demagoguery was not kept under control it would eventually destroy the state; that no man who depended upon demagoguery could survive no matter how high his position; that no amount of eloquence or courage could save a country once its leaders were caught up in the quagmire of demagoguery.
I Yi added that the more incompetent and corrupt the leadership, the more public resentment there would be; that morality would crumble and the penal system would become ineffective. He said that as long as corrupt officials escaped punishment, injustice could not be eliminated.
Hae Wol Choe (who was probably influenced by European and American philosophers) held that all men were created equal and that there should be no distinction as to origin or class—both concepts that were diametrically opposed to the political and social ideology of the ruling yangban (yahng-bahn) class.
While all of Korea’s early philosophers were themselves members of the yangban class, those who held beliefs that were contrary to the philosophy prevailing at the royal court were invariably “outsiders” with little or no political power. Thus for generation after generation, their wisdom came to naught.
Korea’s dissident philosophers played a background role in the disintegration of the country’s backward-looking Choson court in the last half of the nineteenth century, but their warnings and counsel were too little too late. The government was so outdated, weak, and inept that it was simply overwhelmed by the tidal wave of Western influence that began sweeping the country in the 1870s, culminating in a period of colonization and destructive wars that lasted until 1953.
The philosophical conditioning of Koreans in coping with authoritarian governments throughout their early history was a major factor in their survival during the turbulent period when they were ruled by the Japanese and subjected to the brutality and havoc of modern warfare. But it was not until they had regained their sovereignty and accomplished a virtual economic miracle that they had the luxury of applying philosophy in its higher moral, spiritual, and social sense to their daily lives. This did not come easily.
The harsh military occupation of Korea by Japan for some five decades (essentially from 1895 to 1945), followed by the communization of the northern portion of the peninsula and a devastating civil war, resulted in the resurgence of a degree of militant authoritarianism that had not been experienced in the country since the founding of the Choson dynasty in 1392. And it was mostly Korean students, the heirs of the still-unused higher philosophical wisdom that had been accumulating for centuries, who defied one militaristic government after the other, eventually making it possible for more democratic leaders to achieve political power and, for the first time in the history of the country, begin heeding the philosophers.
Koreans on all levels of society are now engaged in a fundamental philosophical transformation, trying to fuse ancient beliefs and traditions with independence, individualism, democracy, and a totally new technology-driven lifestyle. How well they succeed will have international repercussions for the foreseeable future.
Chosang Sungbae 촛앙 숭배 Choh-sahng Suung-bye
Ancestor Worship
It is generally assumed that the ancient Korean practice of chosang sungbae (chohsahng suung-bye), or “ancestor worship,” was imported from China, but that is not entirely the case. There was a substantial element of ancestor worship in shamanism, Korea’s indigenous religion. Shamanism taught that the spirits of people who died survived death and continued to play an important role in the lives of those still alive and that those still living had to make sure their deceased ancestors were comfortable and content to keep them from causing trouble. (It was long believed that the spirits of people who died childless, called yongsan [yohng-sahn], were the most likely to be violent and cause problems.)
But of all the cultural values and customs introduced into Korea from China, none was more insidious or influential than the version of chosang sungbae originated by Buddhists and later elaborated on and espoused by Neo-Confucianists as a political and social ideology.
Neo-Confucianism itself was a product of reform-minded Confucian idealists in China during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. In their efforts to rid China of its hated Mongol overlords, they began advocating a form of Confucianism that they believed would revitalize Chinese society and at the same time strengthen government control. This new form of Confucianism, based on absolute filial piety and ancestor worship, was adopted as Korea’s state creed in 1392 by General Song-Gye Yi, founder of Korea’s last and longest dynasty (Choson).
Building on the Buddhist teachings of the survival of the spirit after death and the importance of revering the spirits of ancestors, Neo-Confucianists created a minutely structured hierarchical society in which males were inherently superior to females, the family unit was a patriarchy, and the father or oldest male in the family had absolute authority over all the